


Need to Be

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-22
Updated: 2005-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reunion gives Wes a chance to reflect on the past and secure his future.  (Lyrics from Stone Sour, "Bother")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

The noise at the table was tremendous, but the people seated around it didn't seem to notice. This was a gathering of friends, some who had set aside personal grudges held for years, in order to enjoy the friendship and the love offered to them. For the first time, they had all given everything they had and taken the opportunity to accept what was given. 

Wesley looked around at the dining room table, amazed at the collection of people gathered along its length. Some of them he thought he'd never see again, though he was glad he'd been proven wrong.

His eyes landed on Willow and Xander first, their hands entwined as they most often were. He'd come into their lives after that whole "fluke" mess their senior year, but he'd known almost from the moment he met them that they were meant for each other. Eight years later, they'd finally figured it out, though both had suffered more than their fair share of heartbreak and agony. Willow had endured the death of Tara and Xander had had to deal with his personal demons after leaving Anya at the altar, but eventually they had both dealt with their own trials enough that they could open their hearts to the other. He'd never seen two people more in love, and was gladdened to know that they'd worked things out.

On Willow's other side sat Buffy, her face radiant. Wesley figured that was in large part due to Spike, who rested his hand on hers every so often, seemingly without even thinking about it. Wesley had had his doubts about the ensouled vampire, but as he'd given Angel a shot, he figured he owed Spike the same consideration. Though it had taken a long time for everyone to forgive him his treatment of Buffy, Buffy herself included, they had eventually accepted his feelings for what they were, and Buffy had allowed herself to love the vampire back. Wesley actually approved of the couple. Aside from Angel, Spike was the only one who was an even match for the Slayer.

Next to Spike was Dawn, and Wesley saw that Spike's affection extended to the other Summers sister. Looking at the beautiful brunette, Wesley felt awed. He'd been a part of the others' lives as they'd matured, granted, but Dawn had been the only one he'd known since she was a young girl. Though for a few years he hadn't had any contact with her, he'd always looked upon her fondly. He was pleased to see that instead of becoming more troubled, she'd blossomed into a charming and vivacious woman. He hid a smile as he saw Dawn cast a furtive glance at Connor, who sat across the table from her, next to his father. He should have known that having the two youngest people in the group across from each other would make for instant attraction.

Giles sat next to Dawn, and when Wesley's gaze landed on him, Giles smiled briefly and raised his cup of tea in a sort of English salute. Wesley nodded imperceptibly. As Wesley himself had grown up a little, he and Giles had developed a mutual admiration for each other's abilities. No longer did Giles hold him in contempt; instead, he often found himself calling on the younger Englishman for information. It was a friendship that Wesley had come to value.

At the far end of the table sat Cordelia, holding court as usual. Though her Queen C manners were long a thing of the past, she was still able to rule her domain. No matter how anyone insisted that the Hyperion was Angel's castle, everyone secretly knew it was Cordelia's kingdom. No one ever dared dispute her hold to the throne. However powerful she remained within her circle of friends, her ways were now gracious as opposed to lordly, and Wesley was proud of her for her maturation of character. He'd never seen anyone transform themselves so completely, and he was glad to have been a part of it.

Next to Cordelia were Angel and Connor, and he smiled at the look on Angel's face. Connor had been with them for several years, but Angel still loved his role as father. Once Connor had been given the full story of his parentage, birth and subsequent abduction, he had devoted himself to becoming his father's son. The two were much more alike than they'd originally thought, and it was heartwarming to see how much they admired and loved each other. With Cordelia in the role of mom, though she and Angel never officially got together, they made a charming family.

On Connor's other side was Anya, the one lone wolf. Wesley felt sorry for her as she sat with Connor on her left, Fred on her right. Though she looked appropriately festive and cheerful, he could detect the signs of discomfort on her face. However unintentionally, the two sides of the table were squared off, seemingly Sunnydale vs. L.A. Anya was separated from her friends by a table width, but Wesley knew it might as well be a mile. He admired her strength of character; being willing to join in when he knew she'd essentially become the outcast, after having been left by Xander. She had refused to give up on her friends and had made herself a place again, and Wesley respected her for it.

Beside Anya sat Fred, with Gunn on her other side. Wesley smiled a little as he looked at his two friends; though their relationship had hurt him at first, he now bore no ill will towards them whatsoever. Fred had been the first to extend her hand in forgiveness after the whole debacle with Connor being kidnapped. He had never forgotten that. Of them all, Fred and Gunn were probably the most unchanged. They'd gotten married a year ago, but other than that, the two had retained the most uncomplicated lives of any of their friends.

Wesley's smile faltered as his gaze landed on the one empty chair, the one between Gunn and his own position at the head of the table. The girl who was supposed to be sitting there had fears that rivaled his own when he was unsure if Angel and the rest of his friends would accept him back. Though he'd been the first to applaud Angel's suggestion of a Christmas celebration that combined everyone from L.A. and their counterparts in Sunnydale, he'd forgotten to take into consideration the effects of such a party on the girl who was more fragile than anyone could have imagined.

As if his thoughts were telecast to the rest of the group, Gunn stopped his conversation with Willow and turned his head in Wesley's direction. "Hey English, where's your woman?" he said with a smile. "Ain't she supposed to be helping Angel carve the birds?"

Wesley raised his lips in a wry smile. "I doubt that Faith would take very kindly to your referring to her as 'my woman.' You know very well that she is the first to insist she is her own woman, and I well imagine she would be tempted to put a boot to your throat if she heard you speak of her like that."

Gunn shrugged. "It's the truth, though. No one's ever owned that girl the way you do. I know I haven't known her as long as the rest of you have, but she strikes me as the type who does the owning. Not with you, though."

As silence fell around the table, Wesley lowered his gaze. As much as he loved his friends, no matter which part of California they hailed from, he silently resented anyone who refused to forgive his fiancée her transgressions. She'd hurt many people in her younger years, granted, but she'd suffered for her sins. Physically, she had hurt no one more than she'd hurt Wesley, and he'd not only forgiven her, but fallen in love with her. He didn't understand why, given the nature of the people seated around him, there were those who still wouldn't accept Faith's atonement for what it was.

Rising, Wesley set his napkin beside his plate. "Please excuse me. I find that I'm not in the mood to celebrate if Faith isn't here. I'm going to find her and bring her to the table." He paused as he reached the door, half turning back. "I know that many of you tested yourselves by reuniting for this holiday. This is a test for Faith, too. A much more difficult one at that, may I add. For while many of you have within you the power to forgive her, you have the ability to make that choice. Faith has no such ability. She must endure your silence, your animosity, and know that there is nothing further she can do to redeem herself in your eyes. Please remember that when you look at her, and decide whether to condemn or forgive."

Wesley left the room, left the people still at the table to ponder his words. As he ascended the stairs, he wondered where Faith was. Dinner preparation had been such a noisy, crowded affair that he'd hardly noticed she wasn't there until they'd all sat down to eat. 

A soft melody interrupted his thoughts and he smiled sadly. It figured, she was in the room she'd stayed in when she first was released from prison. The room she'd spent a full year in, until Wesley had asked her to move in with him. Pausing in the doorway, he let the door drift open while he listened to her sing along with the mournful tune.

"Wish I was too dead to cry  
Self affliction fades  
Stones to throw at my creator  
Masochists to which I cater

You don't need to bother  
I don't need to be  
I'll keep slipping farther  
But once I hold on  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds"

Wesley's heart ached as he watched her stare out the window. She was sitting on the window seat, curled up, her chin on her knees, her arms wrapped tight around her legs. Her gaze was so empty, her voice hollow as she half-whispered the melancholy lyrics.

"Wish I was too dead to care  
If indeed I cared at all  
Never had a voice to protest  
So you fed me shit to digest

I wish I had a reason  
My flaws are open season  
For this I gave up trying  
One good turn deserves my dying

You don't need to bother  
I don't need to be  
I'll keep slipping farther  
But once I hold on  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds"

The self-reproach he heard in her voice made him wince. He'd thought she'd gotten better. She'd been out of prison for nearly two years, having gotten time off for good behavior. She'd become a team member, a friend, a partner. The doubts and recriminations, the self-loathing, he'd thought she'd worked past that, with his help and Angel's. As he listened to her sing, he realized he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

"Wish I'd died, instead of lived  
A zombie hides my face  
Shelves forgotten with their memories  
Diaries left with cryptic entries

You don't need to bother  
I don't need to be  
I'll keep slipping farther  
But once I hold on  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds

You don't need to bother  
I don't need to be  
I'll keep slipping farther  
But once I hold on

Once I hold on…  
I'll never live down my deceit"

Wesley stepped inside the door. "I didn't know you still felt that way," he said softly.

A flicker of a smile lit Faith's lips before it died again. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Wes," she said with a shrug.

He walked over to her, sat down and pulled her into his arms. She didn't resist. "I'm trying to learn, Faith. Give me credit for that?"

Faith nodded. "I'll give you credit for a lot, Wes. Giving me a chance when nobody but Angel would, for starters. You get credit for that. After what I did to you, I didn't deserve that chance."

Wesley stroked her hair, brushed his lips across her temple. "Nobody was allowed to make that decision but me, Faith. I made it when you turned yourself in. *You* get credit for that move. It took a lot of guts, a lot of strength, and when Angel told me what you did, I knew for sure that you were more than what you looked, what you acted."

Faith smiled briefly. "I was always a pretty good actress," she said ruefully. "Then I just couldn't hold on to it anymore."

"I'm glad," Wesley admitted softly. He interlaced his fingers with hers. "I wanted the real you, Faith. We all did."

Faith shuddered, her eyes darkening. "Not the others," she said hollowly. "Not Red, not B." Her eyes implored with him to take away the pain, the fear. "I'm scared, Wes. They hate me. I don't blame them, but I can't face them. I can't look into their eyes and see how they'll never forgive me, and I can't sit through a Christmas dinner with them ready to descend on me and shred me to bits."

Wesley took a deep breath. "They won't ruin this for us," he promised her. "Please come downstairs with me? Maybe there are one or two people at the table who aren't willing to look past what you did. They'll always bear scars from you. But there are plenty of other people down there who love you, who want you to be a part of this day. Please join us."

Taking a deep breath, Faith nodded. Wesley pulled her to her feet and held her close as they went downstairs. They entered the dining room and the noisy clatter at the dining table ceased. Twelve  
pairs   
of eyes watched Faith and Wesley as they crossed over to their chairs. 

There wasn't a visible trace of the old, brash Faith who cared little about what others thought of her. When she raised her eyes   
to meet with those of   
the people she'd hurt, she saw mistrust in some, wariness in others, acceptance in some.

"It's about time you got down here, Faith," Xander said lightly. He reached out and took her hand, folding his fingers tightly over hers. "Angel was starting to get scary with the knife. We thought we might be safer with you wielding it." Trusting her boyfriend, Willow added her support by giving Faith an encouraging nod.

Faith's breath caught in her throat as everyone else looked at her with wide eyes. Trembling slightly, she withdrew her hand from Xander's and picked up the carving knife. She closed her eyes, took another deep breath, and when she opened them again, she grinned at Xander. "You sure about that?" She wiggled the knife at him playfully. "I have been known to accidentally hack through the entire platter. Damn Slayer strength," she added with a laugh.

Smiles slowly appeared on the faces of everyone at the table. Taking her gaze from Xander, Faith slowly focused in on Buffy. The two gazed at each other for a long, tense moment, as the smiles on everyone else's faces wavered uncertainly. Finally, the hostility fading from her eyes, Buffy gave Faith a small smile as well.

"Well, don't even think about giving the knife to me. God knows that poor bird would probably end up disfigured as well as dead," she said with a soft chuckle.

Faith's grin spread from ear to ear. Standing up, she handed the knife to Wesley, who stood as well. "I think Wes should have the honors," she announced. "After all, he *is* the one who got everyone here, even if the original suggestion was Angel's. I figure it's his right to slice and dice." She grinned ruefully. "I already had my turn."

Wesley set the knife down for a minute and leaned over to kiss Faith. "I love you, Faith," he said softly, mindless of their audience. "And I'm so very proud of you."

Faith laughed as she settled back into her seat. "I'm proud of me too," she said cheekily, winking at him. She settled comfortably into the conversation that rose around her, finally at peace with herself, knowing that the people she'd hurt were at peace with her as well.

Wesley was relieved as he saw the shell of fear she'd surrounded herself with crack and crumble. She now had what she needed to move on and forget the past-the gift of being loved.

She finally knew she needed to be.


End file.
